Haven
by Antikat
Summary: Haven, a small communal island off the east cost of the United States, has recently fallen victim of a strange outbreak...


**Haven**

David opened his eyes...and instantly closed them again. The bright fluorescent lights above him shone down, beating upon his face with the intensity of the sun. Slowly, he adjusted to the light, and stood up. He had been lying on the floor, the floor of a Seven Eleven. Glancing around, he noticed that he was alone, or at least as far as he could tell. He called out, not exactly sure why, hoping for someone to answer. He did not want to be alone, especially since he had been sleeping in a gas station. But no one was there.

"Oh...what the hell... Why am I in this stupid station?"

His questions were left unanswered as they echoed to the emptiness of the small store. Beside where he had been lay a bottle of Coke and some Twinkies. He began to recall what he had been doing earlier, shopping for a midnight snack. David was often awake at odd hours of the night, given his job at the local 24-hour drug store during the graveyard shift gave him little room for a normal sleep schedule. He was usually at work from eleven to seven, and slept most of the day. But this time he was off for a small vacation he had taken to go to his brother's funeral. Tonight he was not able to sleep because of this, they had been driving to a Taco Bell when someone ran a red light and smashed into the driver side, killing Brian, his brother. David had been grief-stricken for the past few days, since he had lived with barely a scratch, his sibling's life taken away in an instant, and there had been nothing he could do.

He reached down and grabbed his stuff, took a swig of the Coke (it had been previously opened), dropped it, and walked around for a few minutes, checking the aisles for someone, anyone. After accepting the fact that he was alone, David headed outside to go home. He lived two blocks away in a small apartment building, three stories, his place on the second. Both his job and the Seven Eleven were in walking distance, which had left David to put off purchasing a vehicle, for he needed all the money he could spare for rent and utilities. Now was one of those times when he wished he had a car.

As he trekked down the street, he constantly checked behind him to be sure that he wasn't being followed. There had been a few recent muggings in the neighborhood, and David was wary of going out at night. He kept a small knife in his pocket, although this night he had forgotten it at home. His pace quickened, he imagined footsteps behind him, growing louder and closer with each successive step. Soon he was at a full out sprint, reaching his building a minute later, frantically scrambling for his key. Clumsily he attempted to open the door, but dropped the key. As he reached down to pick it up, the footsteps stopped. David kept his head down, afraid to face whoever had been chasing him. After staying there for a few minutes, he feebly rose...to find no one there. Relieved, he easily opened the door and locked it behind him.

Climbing the stairs two at a time David arrived at his apartment, 207, and entered. He locked and dead-bolted the door, then slunk down on the couch and looked around for the remote. It lay beside the TV Guide, and he grabbed it to turn on the television. The image of the local newsroom flashed on the screen, but no sound came from the speakers. David realized that it was on mute, and quickly fixed the problem. But still, no sound came out. And to David's puzzlement, there was no one on screen. Odd, he thought, before changing the channel to the Cartoon Network. He often enjoyed watching the classic cartoons such as Johnny Quest and the X-Men in the early morning, but tonight he found no content in staring at animated characters dance across the screen. He flicked off the TV and went to the kitchen.

David opened the fridge and looked for something half-edible. Behind the old Chinese food and a half-eaten Burger King Whopper, he found what he was looking for: A box of pizza. Pulling back the lid to reveal three pieces of cold, Anthony's pizza he uttered a small blessing to God. He was famished, and the only he loved more than pizza was cold pizza. He ravaged the three pieces in a few minutes, relishing each morsel as it slid down his throat. Thirsty, he reached for the carton of milk, but then remembered to check the expiration date. February 28. He glanced at the calendar, and saw March 7 in large letters...tossing the milk away he decided to just get a glass of water. Turning the handle on the faucet, he muttered some curses under his breath for nothing came out. Admitting defeat, David returned to the couch and once again flicked on the tube. This time he surfed through the channels, until he found an infomercial somewhat interesting. It was for a rotisserie oven, and the images of delicious, beautiful food placed him under a small trance, until the narrator came on and started pitching the phone number and shipping prices.

Bored, David decided to go back to the Seven Eleven and camp out for a while. He knew the kid that was working tonight, and thought he may have returned by now. As he headed out the door, David grabbed a larger knife than he usually carried and placed it in his pocket. He didn't know why, but it made him feel better.

**NEXT SEGMENT**

Upon returning to the convenience store, David noticed what he had been awe-struck by earlier: The place was empty. He was disappointed by this, for he really wanted some human interaction. For some reason the entire night seemed odd, off center was the phrase that came to mind. He went to the back, where he suspected anyone working would be, only to find a small television tuned into nothing but static, the antenna broken midway from the base. On the wall hung a swimsuit calendar, and on the table alongside the TV rested a Playboy, January issue. David stared briefly at the model on the cover, but changed his mind about flipping through it when he heard the back entrance open.

Slowly the door creaked open, as if someone was hanging from the door on the other side...this was an awkward comparison, but David couldn't think of anything better. As the door slid, making the open space wider and wider, David inched towards the doorway. When he had gotten just a few feet away, it burst open, a man falling in, landing on the floor with a thick thud. David stared at the man, taken aback by his appearance. He looked to be decomposing, rotting where he lay. Chunks of skin and flesh sagged from his body, some fallen off by the landing. A larger piece of flesh on the floor in front of him, David prodded it with his foot. It smeared on his shoe, squishy to the touch.

The man groaned, taking David by surprise. He has thought the guy dead. With much effort he began to rise from the floor, using the small railing mounted on the wall as support. When he had gotten to a stance, David recognized him as the kid who was working the store tonight. Horrified by his appearance, one of the eyes was hanging from its socket, lazily drooping on his cheek by a thin strand of muscle. Most of his other cheek had rotted away, leaving a large hole in the kid's face.

He lunged for David, missing as David slipped back into the corner. David ran past the kid, out the door, and then looked back at him. He had turned around, but had not made any progress towards David. He stumbled towards the door, seemingly at a loss when it came to leg coordination. David was lost, and he stared intensely at the kid as he approached, unable to avert his eyes. The motion detector had gone off, and a bright stream of light flashed directly at David's face, breaking the spell. The boy had made it within lunging distance again, and this time made more of a jump when he went for David. David, distracted by the light, fell meekly onto the ground, tripping over a stool sitting behind him. The kid fell as well, missing David and landing a few feet away. He crawled to David, grabbing his foot. Frantically David kicked at him, striking the boy's face several times, freeing himself from the grasp.

David jumped up, and ran out of the alley, down the street with no set destination. He ran for minutes, just aimlessly sprinting down the sidewalk until the adrenaline wore off and he became tired. Gasping for air, he stood hunched over, his eyes unfocused at the cement below him. His mind raced, dozens of questions rushing through at once, none of them being touched upon for a long time. After a while, his mind focused, and he was able to think. What had happened back there? What made the kid like that? Was he dead? Who? How? Why? And what the hell was he going to do?

**NEXT SEGMENT**

The knife in his pocket had twisted, and was now jabbing his leg. Adjusting it, he looked around, unsure of where to go. He thought of going back to his apartment, but the idea of going back towards the monster...well David wasn't too brave. He thought for a while, contemplating breaking in to someone's house just for the comfort of shelter. But he didn't, as he knew he wouldn't, and instead searched for a payphone to call the police. There was one just down the street, on the corner. As he walked to it, he noticed something else: The traffic lights were out. Increasingly odd this night became, but David paid it no attention as he dialed the local number. He waited for the humming of the other line ringing, but was given nothing in return, no dial tone.

"Shit! Dammit, what the hell's wrong with this place?"

David was pissed at the absence of a viable phone connection, but sat down and tried to clam himself. Slowly he began to rationalize the events that had just happened, waking up in a gas station, finding a rotting friend...but his mind could do little more than babble. Worried for his own safety, he decided to go to the police station, some ten or so blocks away, and at least protect himself within the confines of a building. And if worse came to worse, he figured he could always lock himself inside one of the cells. This plan pleased him, even if all it did was giving him a goal to attain. At least it was better than aimlessly wandering the streets.

Crossing the desolate road David once again glanced at the lights. Now he pondered on them, wondering what would make them go out but leave other power on. They must run on a separate source for powering than standard lights and electricity he thought, probably a safety measure to keep them on in blackouts. Too bad tonight the situation was reversed, although it didn't matter because there was no traffic, the city seemed dead.

He looked down the street, expecting, hoping to see headlights in the distance, but he knew what he would find: absolute nothingness. He had almost accepted this as fact, but the kid he had found earlier continued flashing into his mind. If there was no one here, then where the hell had he come from? Shrugging it off as to not plague himself with useless fears and worries, David concentrated on the task at hand. After taking a left once across the road, David continued straight, past the drug store where he worked and down towards the patent office. He had once thought that an idea for a product he had would be worthy of patenting, but later saw it on television and knew that his chance had been missed. David remained disappointed at this for a week or so, but eventually let it go, realizing that it was a stupid idea and whoever had gotten to it first would make no money, and probably go into debt for the cost of the infomercial. He chuckled to himself as the event passed through his memory again.

Now only a few blocks from the police department, David was becoming optimistic of the possibility that there may be someone inside. For if he was going there, the chances that others might do the same seemed good. Almost happy for the first time in a while, David quickened his pace somewhat, eager to arrive at his destination. But something in a nearby alley caught his attention. A fallen bottle has alerted his ears, the sound echoing in the darkness. Alone, he was hesitant to enter, but then thought that if someone was in need of assistance, he would hate himself if he denied them that for his own fears. Without a flashlight, he trembled as the darkness engulfed him, obliterating the light from the street lamps the further he got in. From the back came a low grunt, short, David questioned whether he had actually heard it or if he was hallucinating. Undeterred, he continued, frightened, anxious. Snarling was the sound that came next, such as that of a dog. This time he was sure he had heard it, for it went on as he traveled.

Suddenly a creature leaped from the shadows, knocking David over. He laid there on the ground, in a puddle, his shirt absorbing most of the water. He searched for whatever it was, his question soon answered. Behind him, a loud bark emanated from the shadows, followed by snarling. A dog. David slowly reached for the knife in his pocket, careful not to make sudden movements. He could hear the dog advancing towards him, its footsteps audible in the night. Closer, closer the dog approached, leaping from its position at David. David held up the knife, in a feeble attempt to evade the attack. The dog landed on him, knocking the weapon from his hands and sliding it a few feet to the right. As the metal blade scraped across the pavement David saw his entire life flash before his eyes, his childhood memories playing back in his mind…

David saw the time he had been jumping on a trampoline with his friend, Wesley, around the time when he was nine or so. They had been performing tricks, mostly flips and stuff, when they began to hold a contest for farthest leap off of the trampoline. After building up his nerves, David prepared for the jump. One, two, three…he made a running bound. Through the air he soared, seemingly forever. As he fell to the earth David cringed and braced for impact. Landing on an old bike's kickstand that had been left in the yard, David toppled in pain. His foot had been twisted upon hitting the ground, effectively breaking it. He stood, the mind-numbing pain shooting up his left leg. Not knowing the seriousness of the injury, David attempted to walk on the foot, thinking it merely stunned or bruised. He had often hurt himself running around with friends, climbing trees and skateboarding, and thought this was just more of the same. But after the foot didn't feel better when ten minutes had passed, he began to worry. As he tried to walk to the house, his friend's, he fell. The foot was too seriously injured to walk on. Wesley's father had to help him hobble over to the house, and they had to call his mom and take him to the hospital. David felt stupid, breaking his foot on a trampoline and ruining the rest of the day as well as the better part of four weeks.

Now, as he regained his mind, David's instincts kicked in. The dog was going for his throat, currently biting deep into his arm as David held it up to protect his jugular. The knife was visible out of the corner of his eye, just feet away. With his free arm, David reached for it, stretching his fingers to the maximum length his body allowed, the tips just brushing the handle. The knife turned, now within grasp. Without thinking David grabbed it and ran it up through the dog's lower jaw, up into its head. The dog howled in pain, falling back, David's clenched hand pulling it out as the dog dropped. He jumped up, kicked the dog down and stabbed it repeatedly in the head, until it ceased movement and fell limp. David fell down, in shock at what had just happened. He looked down at the dog, now dead, and then down at his hand, holding the knife and covered up into the forearm with blood. Now the blinding pain in his arm kicked in, the adrenaline worn off. David clutched it as tight as he could, trying to stop the profuse bleeding. Through his fingers it ran, the blood falling to the ground and creating small puddles of red. As he sat there the puddle became larger, the smaller puddles combing with each other to form one large area of lost blood.

From his health class David knew to apply some sort of bandage to the wound, and to apply pressure until bleeding had stopped. Seeing nothing of use in the vicinity, he ripped a sleeve from his shirt and wrapped it around his arm, which seemed to work effectively. After a few minutes the blood stopped flowing, and David was able to stand. Leaving the knife behind, he stumbled to the police station, the loss of blood making him dizzy and disoriented.

**NEXT SEGMENT**

The large doors loomed tall above David, beckoning and threatening at the same time. Weakly he tried to open them, but was left too weak from his injury. Wearily he fell down upon the steps, rolling down the set and landing on the concrete sidewalk. As he attempted to stand, his vision blurred, and he passed out, striking his head against the ground.

The young woman stared down at him from above, a concerned look spread across her face. She seemed to brighten up when she noticed that his eyes were opening. He tried to focus on her, the single light bulb hanging form the ceiling casting an eerie glow across the room, making it hard to distinguish her features.

"Good, you're awake. I thought you weren't gonna make it there for a while."

David, now fully aware of his surroundings, was able to look around. The room was small, perhaps a stock room, with several cardboard boxes lining the wall. On the far left hung a poster bearing the image of a NASCAR participant, number 24. David hated NASCAR, and wished for the poster to be burned. Now his attention was fixed on the woman who had apparently dragged him in here, a red-headed girl with green eyes, of about 20, maybe 22. She wore a standard police uniform, blue with HPD stamped in bold letters on the back. Now she rummaged through one of the boxes, searching for something that seemed to be of importance. David glanced down at his arm, newly bandaged, the bleeding stopped. It hurt far less than it had, although a constant throbbing was still present. She turned around, surprised to see him sitting up, and walked over carrying a medicinal bottle, which had the logo of the company Apex, a large pharmaceutical manufacturer, blazing on the label. Apex had almost put the shop where he worked out of business, the only thing keeping it alive were the regulars who appreciated the friendly service.

"What's that?"

"Glad to see you're sitting upright, must mean that you're feeling better. This? Just something to relieve the pain. How'd you do that, anyway?

"A dog. Came out of nowhere and jumped me."

"Oh...well it's pretty bad, had to stitch it myself. Good thing I took classes, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess."

David took the pills and swallowed them dry. He almost puked them back up, but held them down with some effort. His stomach growled, he was hungry, and needed something to eat.

"Is there anything to eat around here?"

"I don't know...there might be a fridge in the lounge. I'll go check."

She left, and David laid back down. He wanted to sleep, nothing more than to sleep, but stayed awake for her. He knew that if she came back and he was sleeping she would assume the worst. Besides, the prospect of free food was too good to pass up. He thought of the dog, the fight...it was only now that he pictured what it looked like. At the time he was too busy trying to survive, but now he realized that the dog had been deformed, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Then it hit him: the kid. The dog had been rotting, decomposing, just like the kid at the Seven Eleven. Its skin had been sliding off, the flesh a sickly green color and falling from the bone. Thinking about it made David sick.

The girl came back a few minutes later, an apple in her hand. It looked old, but David didn't care.

"This is all I could find."

"That's fine. Thanks."

He ate it greedily, ripping large chunks from the core and swallowing them nearly whole. It took only several bites to finish it off, and when he had David felt better. The empty hollow in his stomach seemed to be satisfied for the moment.

"Thanks, I needed that."

"You're welcome. By the way, what's your name?"

"David. And yours?"

"Candace. How's your arm?"

"Fine, now. Whatever you did it worked."

"Good. You know, you were close to death out there. I almost lost you when you were sleeping."

"Oh...well sorry for putting you through that. You know, I didn't expect to find anyone here."

David was now sitting up, the girl on a small chair next to the bed.

"I didn't think that there was anyone else out there, either. I was on night shift tonight, alone for the time. The department doesn't have many employees, so it isn't odd for one of us to work a late shift alone. But something weird happened. Earlier I woke up, apparently I had passed out on my way to the office. When I checked the clock, several hours had gone by. It was really strange."

David debated whether or not to tell her his story, she seemed anxious enough about the situation as it was. But he figured he could leave out some of the details and still give her the jist of the story.

"The same happened to me, but I was in the Seven Eleven down the street. When I awoke, I was alone in the store, not even an employee was there. I went home after wandering around for a few minutes, then decided to come here in search of other people and a safe shelter."

He left out the part with the kid, he'd tell her later. If she needed to hear that part of his night, it would come later, no need to freak her out.

"Really? That's weird. I wonder how it happened."

"I don't know. Coincidence, maybe?"

He knew that it hadn't been by chance, not with everyone disappearing like this. David could sense that she knew it, too, but she showed no outward signs of it. Now David really began to think about what had happened, what could have caused all of this, but no answers came to him. This was something out of the Twilight Zone, and he prayed that it was all just a dream. What could make an entire city disappear, and at the same time create such hideous monsters? David was content for the moment just to be with another human being, and let the question slide deep, back into his mind where it couldn't bother him. All he wanted right now was to rest, and let someone else take care of the problem, let someone else clean up the mess.

**NEXT SEGMENT**

An hour passed, with David and Candace making small talk to pass the time. It soon came to the subject of family, with which David was not too fond. Added onto his brother's death, David's relationship with his parents was estranged, to say the least. After school he had stolen their car and drove it into a ditch, leaving it and hitchhiking several towns away. He phoned them after a while, but made no effort to meet them or to tell them where he was. He merely called to tell them that he was alive and to apologize for the car. They did not accept the apology, and have not spoken with him since. He was fine with this, since the only other person he cared for was his brother. When she asked him of his family, he declined to answer.

"Why?"

"Personal reasons, I just don't want to talk about it."

"Okay, we don't have to."

Candace checked the clock on the wall, it was a little after six in the morning. Sunrise usually occurred around 6:30, so at most it was gray outside. At least enough to see though, so they decided to check. David stood, his arm now numb due to the pain killers, and with Candace's help walked to the front doors. Sounds from outside were barely audible through the thick, metal covering of the entrance. This was not expected, as last night the city had been completely empty. David was concerned about this, but Candace remained optimistic.

"Maybe everyone has returned"

"Maybe..."

David did not believe that this was the case, but liked Candace and saw no need in arguing over pointless comments. She pushed the doors open, revealing the very thing David was afraid of: More of the same. Filling the streets were dozens, if not hundreds, of people just the kid he had seen last night. Mindlessly they roamed the streets, blank stares filling milky white orbs sunken into decaying skulls. A few of them were huddled over another corpse, feeding on it as wild animals would a recent catch. Ripping the flesh from the bones they devoured the poor victim, no remorse, no regrets. Opening the doors had caught the attention of a few, and they now walked in their direction. Others followed, and soon all of them were marching up to the doors, the first climbing the steps.

'Shut the doors!"

Candace just stood there, oblivious to David's order. He ran over and pushed her out of the way, closing the doors just as one of them reached the entrance. It banged on the doors from the other side, seemingly unable to open them. David searched for something to lock the doors, and found a broom to insert between the handles. It seemed to hold well enough, as whatever was on the other side was unable to pull them from their position. This satisfied David for the moment, and he turned around to check on Candace. She sat on the floor, staring out to nowhere, devoid of expression. David rushed to her, in an attempt to bring her back from wherever she was.

"Candace! Candace! Shake out of it!"

"Huh...what? What happened? What were those things?"

"I don't know. But it's not safe here anymore, let's go."

He led her by the hand upstairs, to the second floor, where he looked for the armament storage. It was not to be found.

"Candace, where do you keep the weapons?"

"Weapons, those are on sub level 1. But we don't have a very large stock, mostly handguns and shotguns."

"That's better than nothing. How do we get down there?"

"The elevator. It's down this hall and to the right."

"Okay."

They walked down the hall, passing a few interrogation rooms and some offices, which were of higher ranking officers. Once at the elevator, a key code was required. Candace thought for a moment, then typed 1578 into the pad, and the buttons shone green. It was now functional. David pressed the down key, and when the car arrived selected B1. The elevator hummed down the track, a soothing melody playing in the background. It was an escape from the hell outside. Opening, the doors slid to the side, David and Candace exited and ran down to the armory. Inside the place was practically empty...no weapons were to be found. Surprised, David quickly ransacked the room in a desperate attempt to find something, anything. A small 9mm handgun lay in the corner, a small slip of paper draped over it. Scrawled on the paper was "Doesn't Work". David took the gun anyway, figuring that it may become of use later. Candace stood in the doorway, surveying the room.

"I don't know why this place is empty...there should be weapons in here, ammunition, something. I don't know..."

"It's okay, right now we shouldn't worry about that. Now we need to come up with a plan of escape. Are there vehicles of any sort?"

"No. All units were dispatched last night for a disturbance at the Apex building."

"Hmm...well then, I guess we stay here. We have to seal up all exits. And better block the front door."

"Okay...let me see. There's the front door, a door down in the containment facilities, and a few side doors, two on the first floor and one on this level."

"So we'll split up, lock the exits, and meet back in the main hall. I'll take the containment door and the back. You take first floor."

"The cells are on the next floor down, so you'll need to use the elevator. I'll use the stairs to reach the first."

"Right. We'll meet back up in about forty minutes."

**NEXT SEGMENT**

David watched as Candace walked down the hall, taking a left at the elevator towards the stairwell. She seemed shaken up, natural for someone in this situation, but also untrained, rookie. He figured that she was new to the force and thought of it no more, a new task ahead. Glancing around the area, David noticed three hallways: one to the elevator, and two heading opposite directions. From the armory David could see little through either path, and decided to take the right, hoping that this would lead him to the door. Dimly lit the hallway loomed, David searched for a light switch of some sort. Locating it a few feet from he split off, he fumbled with the button until he managed to illuminate the hall in a gloomy purple-white. Satisfied, although at unease, he navigated the straight path until he found a door. A simple, brown wooden door, something of a janitor's closet he presumed. Opening it, David fell back. Inside was a man, hanging from a rope tied around the light fixture. David gasped, for he began to sway in the air, a small metallic object falling from one of his now gray hands. Picking it up, David examined it after shrinking back against the far wall of the hallway. A small trinket, a figure of an eagle, marvelously crafted in expensive silver. Upon the back were engraved a few words: _"Fear not the unknown path, for secrets lie in dark corners"_. David pondered the phrase as he continued down the hall...What could it mean?

At the end was another room off to the left, but no door to be used as an exit. Almost going back without exploring, David's curiosity compelled him to check the room. The door was larger than the previous, made of heavy-duty metal, seemingly for security. And true to form, inside was a control panel for all of the systems of the building. Amazed, David marveled at the numerous monitors and keyboards, all a mystery unto themselves. David knew not what, if anything, this could come to be of use for, but decided to place the location in his memory. In the corner laid a small file cabinet, black in color and locks on both drawers. Thinking it nothing, David tried the top shelf. Locked. His hope ripped away, he tried the bottom for mere amusement. Expecting it to be locked the same, he was astonished to find it open. Shuffling through the many folders, he found most of them nothing but documentation of business matters and utilities. Waste management, electrical bills, staff payrolls, etc. But on the back of the last folder, something out of the ordinary caught David's eye: The numbers "98741" scrawled hastily in black pen. Ripping the folder from the row, he tore the back half apart ,folded the numbers and placed them in his back pocket.

Soon David reached the armory again, now heading down the left path. Unlike the other hall, this one was already lighted, evidence of someone being here before. But he thought nothing of this, content to just walk and take a breather from concentrating on the inhuman monstrosities outside. Several doors were bunched in one central location, just past them David could see the exit. Rushing to it, he searched for a way to secure it, as it had no lock which he could operate. Double doors and horizontal handles, a chair David was able to place within both sets of metal handles to bar it closed. Relieved and confident the chair could withstand someone (or something) pulling from the other side, David prepared to examine the three rooms. Taking the closest, which was the solitary room on the left, David entered what appeared to be an empty room. The walls, floor, and ceiling were bare of anything save a coat of white paint. Confused, David stood there and stared at the room for a few minutes, contemplating any possible use anyone could have for this space. He left, still feeling odd about the room, and closed the door behind him, trying to forget it and clear all the space in his mind for things he needed to retain.

The two remaining doors stood in front of him, beckoning. In one, an employee lounge, David found two plush couches with a circular table in between them, along with a small white refrigerator. Still hungry, David opened the fridge hoping to find something to eat. To his dismay, it was empty of anything, except for a silver briefcase. It lay there on the middle rack, open, empty as the refrigerator. There was a Styrofoam insert placed within the case, with indentations resembling cylinders, perhaps vials to carry something. Given the eloquent case, David assumed that whatever had been inside had been of importance. Against the wall stood a desk with several drawers, lined up vertically in two rows. Atop the desk were some papers, nothing of interest. So David checked each drawer. Writing utensils in one along with notepads, assorted decks of cards and dice in another, everything seemingly unimportant or useless. Becoming restless, he quickly ripped the drawers from their respective places and dumped them upon the table. Rifling through the pile of papers and random objects, he found nothing, exasperated and depressed that the effort he exerted returned no results.

Slightly relieved that he found nothing, as he did not wish to carry too many things or remember much, David went to the final room on the floor. A trophy room. A buffalo trophy mounted on the wall adorned the room along with a large white-tailed deer and a fairly sized ram. Each specimen was beautiful in its own way, each one worthy of such wonderful mounts. Bumping the light switch as he leaned against the wall, David looked around in the darkness for a few seconds, unaware of his action. A small object glinted in the dark, placed in the eye of the buffalo. He stared at it, wondering if anything was there or if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Trying the light several times, each time the item disappeared from view in the light, but again shone in the darkness. David turned the light on and maneuvered the chair in the corner to a position directly under the trophy. He cleared a path from the switch to the chair, and turned the light off. Carefully making his way to the buffalo, David climbed the chair and reached for the object. It popped out with ease, leaving a gaping orifice in the buffalo head. He climbed down and turned the light back on. Now with the aid of the light, David studied the small jewel. Red, excellently carved, a perfect example of the beauty that is ruby. Pocketing it, he made his way back to the elevator, now ready to head to the containment cells.

**NEXT SEGMENT**


End file.
